


Tease

by witchwrites



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Long-Distance Relationship, Other, Reader-Insert, Skype
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:31:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchwrites/pseuds/witchwrites
Summary: Hal tries not to make a habit of arguing with internet trolls, but you're good at getting a rise out of him.





	Tease

**Author's Note:**

> unsure of how chapter 2 will end, so im leaving this unrated for now

Hal slams his finger down on the mouse button to select “send” on the private message before slumping back in his chair, arms crossed, fuming.

“Is this  _ really  _ how you want to spend your day off?” he mutters to himself, jiggling his leg anxiously as he waits. If Snake were here - he’s not, he’s out on a jog because Snake  _ never  _ takes a day off - he would definitely make fun of him, and he’d be right to do so. On some level, Hal realizes that what he’s doing is the pinnacle of nerdom, objectively pathetic, and yet… 

He hits the refresh button on his web browser. No reply yet. He re-opens the message he was replying to, reading it for a fifth time and feeling the irritation wash over him anew.

_ “sailor moon is better than eva lol why dont u watch a real anime” _

Now, if this was the first message from this user that he’d received, obviously he would’ve ignored it. He hasn’t sunk so low that he’s just responding to any troll that breathes in his general direction. But it’s not the first. It’s the tenth. This particular troll had trapped him by asking him what he thought was a genuine, if poorly typed, question -  _ “y do u like eva so much?” _ \- but things quickly devolved into whatever this was.

He hits refresh again. No reply yet. He sighs, gets up, decides he should make himself lunch. Hal doesn’t really do regular meals, but it seems wrong to spend his one day off hunched over his laptop and not eating like he always does.

In spite of himself, he obsessively goes over the points he made in his reply as he waits for a pot of water to boil so he can make some terrible, cheap, packaged ramen. Sailor Moon isn’t a terrible anime - he made sure to concede this in his reply in hopes of placating the troll a little and proving that he isn’t so unreasonable. He knows part of why it has a bad reputation is because the internet is full of misogynists that will shit on anything meant for a younger, female audience. Not every anime needs to be a masterpiece to be appreciated, and he’s well aware that he’s got his own biases for some objectively mediocre series, but comparing a villain-of-the-week superhero show for girls to something like Evangeleon is like comparing apples and oranges.

By the time the water is boiling, he’s worked himself into an indignant mess and he’s hitting refresh yet again.

“1 New Message,” his inbox reads. Hal lurches forward, scrambling into his seat and pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He lets out a short huff that was supposed to be a deep, calming breath as he opens the message.

_ “ok lmao ill admit i expected u to take the bait and just shit all over sailor moon. actually ive never even seen eva lmaooooo” _

Hal’s fingers fly across the keyboard immediately. The unbelievable gall this person must have to criticize a series they’ve never even seen, while at the same time preemptively judging him for possibly doing the same thing about a different series..!

He pauses, looks at the self-righteous tirade he just typed out, and thinks better of it. After all, he did just acknowledge that Sailor Moon gets worse treatment than anime of a similar caliber that is made for men. The forums he’s on right now are rife with guys who will praise a substandard harem anime but then talk trash about Inuyasha because of its large fanbase of women.

Oh no, he thinks, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Is  _ that  _ why this troll targeted him? Did he come off as one of  _ those  _ fans on the forums?

Was it because he was uncharacteristically aggressive on the Ouran High School Host Club topic last week?

He goes back to his paragraph and thins it out a little. He can’t let the hypocrisy slide completely, so he leaves some of his chastizing in, but afterwards he tags on a passionate plea for the troll to watch Eva. It’s about the artistry, he tells himself. There’s nothing wrong with loving Sailor Moon, but to not even give one of the greatest animes of the 21st century a chance..!

He takes a deep breath, steps away from his laptop again, and gets back to making ramen. He really should hurry up and eat something. Snake’s been on him about his dropping weight recently, and generally Snake gives him good advice. Generally.

He forces himself not to check his messages by prodding at the slab of noodles with a fork until it breaks into pieces, but that only occupies him for about a minute before he’s back at his laptop.

_ “haha omg, you’re so into it…” _ the newest message reads.  _ “don’t take it so serious, i was just messing with you. it’s cute that you got so worked up though” _

Hal moves his hands to the keyboard, then stops.

_ “it’s  _ cute  _ that you…” _

Hal feels his face flush and he pushes his glasses up again, more a nervous tick than anything else. He tells himself not to be stupid, that this is just some random person on the internet. He doesn’t know who they are so the compliment is meaningless. It’s probably another trap anyway. He should quit while he’s ahead.

He doesn’t, though.

* * *

_ “...Furthermore, I’m not sure I find Johan’s role in the story particularly compelling. I’m sure you’re going to argue that the point is that it’s not  _ about _ Johan, but about Tenma’s struggle, but my rebuttal to that would be that it does a disservice to an otherwise complex story. It’s like when an action hero uses a McGuffin; it’s just a meaningless stand-in to advance the plot…” _

You groan, rubbing your eyes. You don’t know how you let things get so out of hand, but here you are, three weeks later, having in depth discussions about anime with some turbo-nerd you’ve never met.

You scroll down to the bottom of the short essay your internet friend has typed out. The last paragraph is more personal and conversational, asking about what you’re up to, how’s college, if you’ve tried those Japanese candies he’d told you about. You’re not sure if he adds on the small talk as a genuine attempt to get to know you, or if he feels compelled to include it out of obligation, but this is how most of his messages end now.

You take a sip of coffee and start typing up a reply. You should be working on your assignment for your short story writing class, but instead you’re doing this, because… well, because you’re struggling with writing at the moment and this is a convenient distraction.

You spend three minutes retyping the same sentence before, in a spur of the moment decision, hitting select all shortcut and deleting everything you’ve written. Instead, you write,  _ “This is annoying to do over text. You wanna try video chat on Skype?” _

You hit send before you have time to overthink it. The idea of video chatting occurred to you some time ago but you haven’t bothered to pursue it until now. You tell yourself you only waited so long because you didn’t want to scare him off and ignore the twisting feeling in your stomach. Don’t be stupid, you tell yourself. This is a normal thing to ask. This is the natural progression of online friendships, right? You troll them, you warm up to them, you video chat?

You wonder if it’s obvious to him that you don’t bother to make a lot of friends online.

Clicking back to your inbox, you see he’s already replied.  _ “What, right now?”  _ he asks. 

You frown. You figured he’d put up some resistance because he seems like a total shut-in.  _ “Yeah, right now,” _ you send back.  _ “Don’t lie and say you’re busy. You’re replying super fast so I know you’re doing jack shit.” _ That’s a little meaner than you usually are to him these days, but oh well. 

You dick around online, sipping coffee and toying with the idea of working on your assignment. He takes a long time to reply, but eventually -

_ “Alright,” _ he says, and then there’s a Skype username. Bizarrely, it’s just a long string of seemingly random numbers and characters. It’s your turn to be surprised now. You thought he’d just tell you no and you’d shrug and move on. 

You open up Skype and add the username. The friend request is accepted almost immediately, so you hit the call button, curling up in your chair and fixing your hair.

The Skype dial tone cuts out and you’re greeted with a field of grey with a little bit of white on the sides. You hear a soft, “Oh,” before the camera moves, freezes, and then unfreezes on a shot of a guy’s face. He takes up nearly the whole screen, and the only thing you can see behind him is a plain white wall.

He’s got sort of a long face and bags under his eyes, and he could probably use a haircut, but he’s not the total greaseball you might’ve expected. He looks tired but otherwise fairly well kept. The white you saw before looks like it might be some kind of lab coat - is he a scientist? A doctor? 

He gives you the most nervous smile you’ve ever seen, crooked and twitching in the corners, his eyes crinkling and his brows slightly upturned.

“Can you see me?” he asks, and you have to try not to laugh. You’ve learned by now that he’s a little sensitive and you get the feeling that watching his face fall over video chat wouldn’t be as fun as getting back an overly passionate private message.

Instead of commenting on how he sounds like he’s on a first date, you say, “Cute glasses.”

His hand flies to his face and he makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and scoff. He pushes them up the bridge of his nose with his middle finger, like some kind of anime character. 

“Thanks,” he says, a little dryly. You wonder if he thinks you were making fun of him. You weren’t, for once.

You’re a little more thrown off by being face-to-face than you thought you would be. Belatedly, you realize you hadn’t actually thought through what you were going to say, so now the two of you are uncomfortably staring at each other through your screens. He opens his mouth, then closes it and looks away, still smiling anxiously.

“I just realized we’ve been talking for almost a month and I don’t think we’ve even traded names,” you blurt out. Awkwardly, you tell him your name.

For some reason, this makes him look somewhat alarmed, his brows shooting up and his eyes going wide. 

“Oh,” he says, his gaze darting around. “I’m, uh - can’t you just use my username?”

“You want me to call you ‘PeacecraftXXXG?’” you ask, incredulously.

He looks down, his nervous smile breaking into a grin. “Well, not the whole thing! That’s too much of a mouthful. You could shorten it -”

You can’t help yourself and you burst into loud laughter. “I am not calling you ‘Peace’ or ‘G,’ oh my God!” You cough after you’ve stopped laughing, clearing your throat. “Come on, it’s just a first name. Pick a fake one if you want to be so damn secretive about it.”

He’s still grinning, looking sheepish, and his face is pink. He lets out a stilted, shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair. You suspect he was trying to tidy it up, but instead it now looks even messier. “Okay, um… I’ll - okay. Hal. You can call me Hal.”

“Is that your real name, or a fake one?” you ask. You cover up your smile with your hand, resting your elbow on the edge of your desk.

One side of his mouth quirks up. “Sort of defeats the purpose if I tell you that, doesn’t it?” His gaze flits over his webcam rather than his screen, giving you the impression that he’s looking right at you, and you don’t like the way that makes your stomach twist. “So anyway, about ‘Monster’ -”

* * *

Hal taps his thumb against his laptop next to the trackpad, idly, anxiously. He and Mei Ling have been tossing this code back and forth between the two of them for about a week now and it feels like he’s not making any progress. But he  _ needs _ to make progress. Snake has a mission coming up, and it needs to be ready, and -

A firm hand on his shoulder startles him and he jolts. He turns, and Snake gives him a little smirk.

“Time for a break, Otacon,” he says, before heading to rinse his mug out in the sink.

“I can’t,” Hal says, sliding his fingers under the lens of his glasses to rub at his eyes. “There’s too much to do.”

Snake grunts. Hal, because he’s been living and working with Snake for far too long, knows that this particular grunt means, “Don’t argue with me because I’m right and you know it.”

“I guess I am probably overdue for a rest,” Hal admits, reluctantly.

Snake turns and raises his eyebrow - only a little, so little that probably only someone like Hal would be able to tell it was raised - as he shuts off the water. “You’ve spent nearly a full day sitting here at your computer.”

Hal sighs and starts tapping at his keyboard again. “Just a little bit longer, I promise.”

Hal doesn’t look, but he’s sure Snake is giving him a look as he heads back to his room. “I’m turning in for the night,” he says.

Hal waits until Snake’s door clicks shut before pulling up Skype.

It’s not like you’re a  _ secret  _ he’s keeping from Snake. The two of you had started doing video chats regularly ages ago, and living the way that he does, in such close quarters, it would’ve been impossible to hide. But Hal always feels like there’s something private about your conversations that Snake shouldn’t really be privy to. Besides, Snake is rightfully wary of you, even after Hal assured Snake that his internet connection is appropriately secure, as untraceable as possible, and you have virtually no useful information about him. 

Well, aside from his name. 

Your Skype is set to ‘away,’ but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re unavailable. Hal sends you a quick message asking if you’d like to chat before minimizing the window. If you message him back, he’ll take a break to talk to you and then maybe get some sleep after. And if you don’t, well… it’s not so bad if he keeps working, right?

What time is it anyway? He glances at the corner of the screen. Midnight-ish? That’s not so bad. He’s only been up, like, 30 hours. He’s done worse before.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the Skype ringtone. He jolts, scrambling to pick up his stuff, cradling his laptop in the crook of his arm as he heads to his room. He’s careful to shut the door behind him and sit on his bed with his back against the wall so that all you’ll be able to see is his face and the eggshell paint behind him.

He hits the answer button and he’s surprised to see you’re not where you usually are when the two of you chat.

Normally, you sit at your desk, curled up in your cheap rolling desk chair. Right now, it looks like you’re hunching over your laptop while sitting on your bed criss-cross-applesauce, your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands. It looks like you haven’t got the lights on - your face is only illuminated by the blue-white glow of your computer screen.

“Woah, you look like shit,” you say, your brows raised in a rare look of genuine concern. “You okay?”

Hal quirks his lips up into what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “I’m fine! Just a long day.”

He hears you click your tongue quietly. “Uh huh,” you say, clearly unconvinced. But you don’t press him on it. You never do, and Hal can never decide if that’s something he appreciates about you, or if he wishes you would coddle him more. He supposes it’s irrelevant anyway, since you’re not really the coddling type.

It’s just now that Hal notices that, in addition to you being in a slightly different location, you’re also dressed differently. Hal doesn’t go to parties, but your outfit looks like something you might wear to one. It exposes more of your chest than he thinks he’s ever seen before and there’s something smeared across it, catching in the light of your laptop.

“Are you wearing  _ glitter _ ?” he asks, surprised.

You look down, make a disgusted noise, and start trying to wipe off the glitter with your hand. It seems like you only manage to make a bigger mess because then he watches as you look at your hand, wrinkle your nose cutely, and wipe your hand on your shirt.

“I went out with some friends and one of them had body glitter and insisted on putting it on everyone after she got drunk,” you explain. “So now I get to look like someone’s shitty craft project for a few days.”

Briefly, Hal wonders if you’ve been drinking too. But your words aren’t slurred and you’re acting about the same as usual, so if you were drinking, you didn’t drink much. The only things that are different from normal are your outfit and the fact that you’re currently repositioning yourself so that you’re _ lying down _ next to your webcam, your upper half in the frame and turned slightly to the screen.

Hal realizes his mouth is hanging open and he snaps it shut.

He shouldn’t be ogling at you. You’re his friend and it’s rude. You wouldn’t want him looking at you that way. His friendship with you has probably only lasted as long as it has because he hasn’t tried to make a move on you.

You seem to be settling in, and he clears his throat. “You want to watch something?” he asks. “The Gundam movie -”

He’s cut off by a scoff from you. “God, fine, we can watch the stupid Gundam movie. But you have to explain anything that I won’t get because I haven’t seen the show.”

Hal resists the urge to cheer, but he’s pretty sure you can tell how absolutely thrilled he is anyway. “You  _ know  _ I have absolutely no problem doing that,” he says, pulling up his web browser to find you a not-quite-legal streaming website.

And if he lets the video chat take up more of his screen than the movie, well, you don’t need to know that.


End file.
